Whiskey Lullaby
by Azrael38
Summary: One-shot songfic based on the song of the same name. What happens when Ryan and Taylor give up on their love?


A/N: So I've been feeling a little angsty, and I know that I promised you all the last chapter of 'Pieces' but this just came out first. The last chapter will be up later tonight but I had to sit down and type this up. Dual inspiration for this one. Part came from whitelilly's story 'This Broken Road' and the other part came from the song with the same title as my story, performed by Alison Krauss and Brad Paisley. If you've heard the song before, you know where this is going. If not, just know that this ends badly; no happy ending here. Either way, you're all going to hate me for what I'm doing to Ryan and Taylor.

* * *

_She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette  
She broke his heart he spent his whole life tryin' to forget  
We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time  
But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind_

She's crying. Taylor is crying harder than I have ever seen her cry and something is wrong. I have no idea what it is. Sometimes I think she does this just to try to get some emotion out of me.

"Taylor, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

She holds up the letter and I know I'm busted. I know that she's going to take this entirely out of context, or already has, the tears being the evidence.

"Look, I just needed someone to talk to. That's all it was. I haven't even talked to her in a month. Do you think I'm having an affair?"

The tears are coming harder now and I know that this isn't going well. Taylor very rarely all out cries. As a matter of fact, her lack of over the top feminine displays of emotion was one of the reasons I loved her so much.

"Why couldn't you talk to me Ryan? I'm your wife, for chrissakes! You could talk to me about anything!"

"It's been pretty hard to find time to spend with you. You're always gone. I reason that I took the job closer to home was so that we could have more time together. Now you're the one who is never here."

"Are you accusing me of having an affair now Ryan? I'm not the one that's been writing ex-girlfriends! I'm not the one inviting them to come out and spend the day with me!"

"I told you before that Sadie and I are just friends now! She's married, with two kids, to a great guy. I just wanted to catch up with her."

This conversation is really starting to piss me off. I think Taylor can tell because she's starting to get pissed off, too. What the hell does she have to be pissed off about anyway? Sadie and I are not even _remotely_ interested in each other anymore. I think we both realized that we were better off as friends than lovers.

"Well how would you feel if you found out that I was writing secret notes to Henri-Michael and inviting him to come out and meet me for a private rendezvous? Wouldn't that bother you?"

"First off, it was one note and it wasn't meant to be a secret. I just didn't think it was that big of a deal. Which it obviously was. Second, Henri-Michael is something completely different. You were married to him and he wrote a book about your sexual escapades. Third, don't use the word rendezvous. It makes it sound like we were meeting for sex. Which we weren't."

"Whatever Ryan. Regardless, you thought you needed to seek out an old flame rather than talk to me, your own wife, about what you had going on in your life. This is just another example of why I should have stayed in France, rather than come home."

Wait. Is she saying what I think she's saying?

"Is this still about you being jealous of me hanging out with Sadie, or is this about something else? Because, if this is something bigger, then we've got WAY more serious problems than a letter from Sadie."

"Ryan, I want you to leave."

I look around and (I don't know how I didn't see this before) see that she has some of my bags packed. Actually, it looks like she has all of my luggage packed. That would mean…

"You've been planning this for awhile."

"I think that this is what we've known all along. You never really talk to me anymore. You want to go have lunch with your old girlfriends. You still have pictures of Marissa around the house."

"She was a really good friend of mine, Taylor, and she died! What is wrong with you! I can't believe that you want me out of our apartment. MY apartment!"

She starts bawling again, but I couldn't give a shit right now. I'm so mad I can't see straight. Anger isn't going to help, however. I have to rein myself in. Why is she doing this?

"Taylor, please, just talk to me. We can work through this. We've been through worse before and made it through. Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"Just go Ryan. I just want you to go." Taylor grabs a bottle of wine from the counter and goes into her (OUR) bedroom. I want to follow, but I hear the door slam and lock.

"Taylor! Taylor open the damn door!" I'm screaming now and pounding on the door, practically ready to rip it down if she doesn't open it for me. I stop for a second and hear Taylor sobbing in (OUR) the bed. That's when it comes to me: she has given up. For Taylor, this marriage is over.

I walk over to the kitchen, contemplating if this is worth getting shitfaced over. It is, so I grab the bottle and sit down on the couch. I start with shots and eventually I've moved on to swallows. Now I'm on the second bottle, and I've pretty much given up on the glass altogether. It's been a long time since I've been this drunk, but it actually feels good giving up like this. Without Taylor, it really doesn't matter anymore. She has given up on me so why not give up on myself? In between drinks, I grab a pen and paper and compose my good-bye to the only woman I've ever loved.

* * *

"Ryan! Open the door man!"

There is some serious pounding going on right now and it's not coming from my head, as it should be. I guess I didn't drink enough last night.

"Ryan!"

Pounding.

"Ryan!"

More pounding.

"Ryan Ryan Ryan Ryan Ryan Ryan RYAN! Dude I'm seriously just going to keep knocking on your door until either you answer it or I'm murdered by the cokehead sitting in your hallway. Hopefully the former."

"Go away Seth," I yell. I really don't feel like getting out of bed right now. In fact, I don't feel like getting out of bed at all today. Something I can actually do now that I don't have a job.

"Not gonna happen man."

I get up with a groan and kick over a few empty bottles of some cheap liquor. I guess I DID drink enough last night. Either that or this is from some other night in the past six months that I haven't yet cleaned up. I open the door and Seth bursts in through my door, closing it behind him.

"Dude, thank you so much for opening the door! The cokehead was gradually inching his way closer and -"

He looks around at my shitty apartment then turns towards me and actually notices me. His jaw drops in shock.

"You look like shit man!"

"Thanks. What do you want?"

"I just wanted to see how you were doing. We haven't talked in forever."

"Go away Seth."

"Why don't we just go get some coffee or something? I'll buy."

"I said go away Seth."

"Come on, Ryan. Let's just get out of here for a bit."

I've had enough of this crap.

"I SAID GO THE FUCK AWAY SETH!" I open the door, drag him out, and slam it behind him.

"Please man! We all miss you and we just want you to be ok! We're worried," I hear him sob. It reminds me of a time not too long ago when my life fell apart. Only this time, I don't give a shit.

"Don't come back here Seth. And tell your family that I don't want to see them anymore. Tell them to stop coming here. I'm not answering the door anymore," I say as I grab a bottle and head back to the bedroom.

"Ryan! RYAN!"

* * *

_He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger  
And finally drank away her memory  
Life is short but this time it was bigger  
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees_

I don't know if I can drink much more.

I mean, I probably physically _can_ fit more alcohol in my body, I just don't know if my body can handle it. As it is, I'm pretty sure I'm already suffering from alcohol poisoning in this shitty little alley in Oakland. Or is it LA? I can't fucking remember anymore. It's been awhile since I've known for sure exactly where I am. Regardless, I think anyone would have alcohol poisoning after having as much to drink as I have.

I lean over and throw up for the second time in as many minutes. It's probably too little too late, but it still feels good. I can't move my legs anymore so I think I'm just going to sit here and remember all the times I had with my family.

Family.

If I was anyone but an Atwood, I probably would have asked them for help long before tonight, but we were never really known for being accepting of assistance. I tried to tell them where I was, but I think all that came out was something about a bar and being drunk.

I miss her.

I miss Taylor.

I wonder what she's doing now. If she's found someone else. Someone to make her happy and will tell her how he's feeling. Someone that would talk to her instead of going to an old girlfriend because he doesn't want her to know how scared he is that she'll think less of him.

I wish I wouldn't have left that night. That I would have stayed and waited for her to come out of her room. That I would have told her that I loved her more than anything.

Instead, I took the coward's way out. The Atwood way out. I followed the bottle and this is where it has taken me. Some back alley in the ghetto, far away from where I want to be right now.

I can feel myself losing consciousness and the last thought that goes through my head before I black out is exactly where I want to be at that moment:

In Taylor's arms.

* * *

_The rumors flew but nobody know how much she blamed herself  
For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath  
She finally drank her pain away a little at a time  
But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind_

He was buried today.

I didn't go. Not because I didn't want to. I absolutely wanted to go. I just got so drunk last night that I forgot to set my alarm.

For three in the afternoon.

Nobody wanted me there anyway. Summer blames me for causing her to lose another friend. She hasn't returned my calls in months. This means that Seth is ignoring me too. Although I think his reasons are a little more personal. They were brothers and best friends. Kirsten apparently doesn't talk to anyone anymore and she's drinking again. At least that's what Sandy told me last week when he called to tell me Ryan was dead. He told me that he was sorry and that it was the last time he would call because he didn't think he could handle talking to me again. It brought up too many memories of Ryan.

He said HE was sorry. Why would he apologize to me?

I'm the one that drove his son to drink himself into oblivion. This actually sounds like a pretty good idea. The first I have had in awhile.

I haul myself out of my bed to go to the kitchen and get another bottle of wine. Not the most economical way to bet blindingly drunk, but I can't stand the taste of hard liquor and beer doesn't work fast enough. Unfortunately, this is the last bottle, so it looks like I'll be walking down to the liquor store in a couple hours. Walking because, after my third DUI, my license was suspended indefinitely. The only reason I'm not in jail is because I promised to start attending AA meetings, which was a blatant lie. I would no more go to an AA meeting than I would go to church to confess my sins.

I wander back to my room to enjoy my wine and watch some old movies. On the agenda for today is our wedding video and our honeymoon.

I'm going to need a lot more wine.

* * *

As I kiss the guy, I'm assaulted by the smell of cigarettes and alcohol and I nearly throw up. It's not until I break the sloppy lip lock that I realize that the scent is my own. I'd forgotten that I had started smoking.

I can't remember where I picked the guy up. I only remember stumbling to some bar, already drunk. Somehow, we made it back to my place. My new place. I couldn't afford to live in my (OUR) old apartment on a waitress' salary.

He rips off my shirt, sending buttons flying around room. My pants follow soon after and he throws me on the bed. I can't remember removing his clothes but, somehow, he's naked and, in the next moment, inside me.

He's terrible, but the wine is working. I'm not here anymore. I'm back in our old apartment. I'm not with some nameless man. I'm with him. I look up and see his face.

_Ryan._

"Who the fuck is Ryan," the unnamed guy who is terrible in bed stops screwing me long enough to ask. I realize that I said that aloud. The answer would be more than I care to tell so I hope ignoring him will get him going again. "I asked you a question bitch!"

He reaches back and slaps me across the face, then proceeds to flip me over. He takes what he wants and leaves.

"I hope _Ryan_ doesn't mind," he says as he leaves. I cry myself to sleep.

* * *

_She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger  
And finally drank away his memory  
Life is short but this time it was bigger  
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees_

Today was our anniversary.

I'm celebrating with painkillers and wine in my bed.

I bought three cases at the liquor store last week and had the young man downstairs help me take them up to my apartment. I could tell by the way he looked at me that he didn't approve, so I gave him a ten-dollar bill and told him to fuck off. I moved the cases of lukewarm wine into my room a week ago so I wouldn't have to leave my room. From there, it became my bed. Now, I just want to go to sleep and never wake up.

I've been crying for the past three hours and I just can't seem to stop. I figured I was in pain, so I took half of the bottle of no-label Oxycodone I bought from the guy in my building. I feel better now. Actually, I think that I don't feel anything, which is just as good. On the TV is the video of some anniversary celebrated in years past. I can't remember which year that was, but I see some familiar faces. The Cohens are there, along with my (ex)friend, Summer. I think I see Julie Cooper in the background with Ryan's dad.

I want to take another drink of wine, but I can't seem to lift my arms. Or any part of my body for that matter. I begin to realize that I may have overdosed on the pills. I look over to the table near my bed, which means I can still move my head, and see the letter. The little piece of paper with our relationship's obituary on it. I've held onto it since the day Ryan left it. The last day I saw him.

I'm so tired.

It's then that I realize that all it would have taken to fix our marriage would have been an apology. Is it too late?

"Oh Ryan, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry……."

* * *

_We found her with her face down in the pillow  
Clinging to his picture for dear life  
We laid her next to him beneath the willow  
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby_

Damn it's cold, I think to myself as I wander through the cemetery. I wish I brought my coat.

It's been a year since my brother died and I'm going to visit him for a little Seth/Ryan time, just like every Sunday.

As I'm walking up the hill to his grave, I see another solitary figure standing near. The tiny brunette is standing in front of the headstone adjacent to Ryan's, the one marked _Taylor Atwood_. I'm a little surprised to see _her_ here.

"Summer? What are you doing here?"

She turns to look at me and, for the briefest of moments, I see a look in her eyes that I haven't seen in what seems like forever: I see joy. It's quickly replaced with the mask that she's been wearing since we both lost our best friends, but it's good to know that, somewhere down there, the girl that I fell in love when we still kids is still there.

"Hey Cohen. Just here to visit Taylor. It's been awhile since I came here so I thought today would be appropriate. You come here a lot?"

"Every Sunday. Our time together isn't really the same without him actually being here, but it's kinda familiar. I mean, I'm still doing all of the talking."

Seeing her smile again is nice. Her being depressed all of the time was one of the reasons we separated.

"How's your mom doing?"

"Better. She's back from rehab again, which is nice, and I hope this time it's for good. I was really hoping that Sophie wouldn't have to go through what Ryan and I did, but it was probably for the best. Dad's been helping her adjust to being back home. I don't think she's ready to come back here yet, but maybe one day she will."

"That's good to hear."

I can't remember silences being this awkward between us. Not that there were that many silences. I think, between the two of us, we talked enough for two couples. It seems like neither one of us have much to say anymore. Strike that. I still have something to say.

"I'm glad to see you Summer. And I'm sure that Taylor and Ryan, wherever they are, are glad we're here too."

She breaks down into tears and I think I might have said something wrong. Her next words make me change my mind.

"I'm sorry Seth. I really am. I just didn't know what to do when I lost my best friend again. So I took it out on you. Can you forgive me?"

I can't answer her in words so I'm hoping that my next action will answer her appropriately. I bring her into my arms and, when she doesn't move away, hold her close to my chest.

"I miss them so much Cohen. I wish they were here."

As she says this, a warm breeze blows through us from the direction of their headstones. I can almost see them standing there, Taylor's head on Ryan's shoulder.

"I think they are Summer. And I think they're ready for us to move on."

"I think you're right, Cohen." Pause. "You want to go get some lunch?"

* * *

A/N: So I know that was really sad and completely tragic but it was a nice change for me from the fluffiness that has been 'Pieces' lately. I think it was just me trying to balance my writing out. Oh well. As far as the note, I'd like to hear what you think was in it. What would be in there that would keep Taylor from changing her mind about Ryan? Even if you hated it, please review. AZ


End file.
